Onscreen Chemistry Outtakes
by winterhorses
Summary: Onscreen Chemistry from Edward's point of view...Bella, America's young sweetheart on screen, is starring in her first R-rated film. Her co-star is Edward Cullen, Hollywood's reputed playboy, and he won't give her the time of day. Will they fizzle onscreen as Bella attempts to turn up the heat in her first erotic scene, or can she cause a reaction powerful enough to burn through hi
1. Chapter 1 - Prelude to a Sex Scene

**In order to keep these chapters synched with those of OSC, I've taken down the outtake of the _Desperate Relations_ scene in ch17. I'll post that as a separate outtake until I've written the preceding chapters and can incorporate it into a full chapter 17 EPOV.**

* * *

><p>"Edward, Edward! Over here, Edward!"<p>

"Are you dating Maggie O'Neill?"

"Why did you walk out of the KIIS-FM interview?"

"I love you! Marry me, Edward!"

"What do you think of Bella Swan?"

Edward stared straight ahead and allowed the larger man to clear the way to the gym door. He hadn't wanted to leave the house for his daily workout, but his agent and personal assistant, Emmett McCarty, had twisted his arm. Actually, Emmett had thundered, teased, and been a general pain in the ass until Edward agreed, just to shut him up.

The renowned actor had good reasons for not wanting to leave his mansion, and the throng of rapacious photographers topped the list. Screaming, grabbing fans weren't something he liked, either, but he endured it in order to do the one thing he did enjoy - performing.

Edward Anthony Cullen was beautiful, wealthy, talented, and the perfect age. At 26, he was old enough that housewives didn't feel it was a perversion for him to star in their fantasies, yet young enough that he still routinely graced the covers of teen magazines.

He had a house in LA, one in New Orleans, and another on the Cape in Massachusetts. Several Golden Globes were stuffed in a storage closet, and a critically acclaimed film currently showing was generating Oscar buzz. He already had two projects lined up after he finished with _Desperate Relations_, one he was now shooting. Doors opened instantly to any club, restaurant, or other venue he wanted to enter. When he did go out, women gathered in herds for his taking.

Edward Cullen lived the good life, but he couldn't care less.

"Come on, Eddie. I need to be done by eight or Rosie's gonna have my balls," Emmett whined.

"I thought she had already twisted those off in her red-tipped talons," he remarked dryly.

Emmett shoved him hard into the wall. "Shut the fuck up, man!" Then he laughed and clapped his client-slash-boss on the back. "You're right, though."

Shaking out his now-throbbing shoulder, Edward rolled his eyes. "Idiot."

"You just wait, Ed. One of these days, some woman is gonna rope, hogtie, and brand you, and I'll be sitting back eating popcorn. The fall off your high horse is gonna be epic!" He rubbed his hands together in mischievous anticipation.

"Mm-hmm," Edward replied with a frown. He suddenly felt uneasy, and he knew exactly why.

"So you'll spot me today?" Emmett flexed his bulging muscles.

"No, I'm in the pool."

A little later, as water flowed smoothly over his skin, Edward's mind roamed while his body executed the familiar strokes with minimal direction. He'd suppressed it earlier, but with no distractions and no one he needed to mislead, the truth stared him in the face.

There _was_ someone who might do all those things Emmett suggested, and that thought terrified him.

Edward was known for his quintessential bachelor existence. He had carefully crafted and perfected his public persona as a playboy, and nothing could be allowed to threaten it. The last time he took any sort of sincere interest in a woman was over seven years ago, and their 'relationship' had damaged him irrevocably. After that fateful night, he pieced himself together just enough to face life and, in doing so, promised no one would get close enough to hurt him again. He wouldn't allow it.

Yet from the moment Edward saw her, he knew the vow was in danger of being broken. Something about her drew him in, and he couldn't figure out what it was. There didn't seem to be any obvious reason for her uniqueness, but somehow Isabella Swan had done what hundreds of girls before her had failed to do. The kicker was that she didn't try to, nor did she know of her accomplishment.

Perhaps it was her simple, natural beauty. She didn't need heavy makeup or flashy clothes to stand out; Isabella herself served as the accent piece to whatever outfit she donned. Even when she trudged out of the studio in yoga pants and a baby doll tee after a long day of filming, she was stunning.

Or it could be her eyes that compelled him. A rich walnut brown, they were deep and warm, open and guileless. When he looked into them during a scene, he felt the overwhelming urge to draw a sword and jump onto a rearing horse to slay dragons in her honor. But when those same eyes sparked with fire, he felt he would fare better facing said mythical beasts than challenging her. Although the idea of him in a heated argument with her held some appeal…

Edward sputtered and coughed as he surfaced after completing a flip turn. He had been so lost in his thoughts that he inhaled water while inverted. He couldn't remember the last time that had happened – the span would be measured in years.

Mark that down as the next number on his ever-growing mental list of reasons why he needed to stay as far away from her as possible. Of course, given the scene on today's shot list, there wasn't going to much space between them at all. He hoped his professional demeanor would remain in place throughout filming, especially when he ran his fingers over bare skin or wrapped a hand in her long, lustrous hair.

Releasing an irritated groan, Edward returned to the side of the pool to push off again. He needed to concentrate on his current activity instead of the upcoming day on the set. His Speedo was not forgiving when it came to the kinds of thoughts he had been about to entertain – which brought him back to yet another hazard Isabella Swan posed.

Edward prided himself on personal control in all aspects of his life. He depended on no one and did his best to project this closed-off personality. Even when completely submerging himself in a character, he never lost the iron grip on his innermost emotions; it protected him from the kind of hurt he experienced before.

Isabella tested his restraint like no other ever had – on set and off. After five unsuccessful minutes of attempting to swim without drowning himself, Edward climbed out of the pool and went to take a very cold shower. He may have lost this battle, but he couldn't lose the war.

Emmett met him in the lounge, where he was listening to an iPod with eyes closed. If ever he needed a way to escape his mind's punishment, music was the answer.

Kicking at one of Edward's feet, Emmett chucked a thumb toward the exit.

"Let's go, man. You gotta get to the set, and I have a phone call to make."

The actor grabbed his gym bag and simulated dragging a heavy ball chained to his leg as the two left the building. Emmett flicked him off and unlocked the doors to his Escalade.

"Did you get the sides I left on the island this morning?"

Edward shrugged. "I saw them, but I'm good for today."

"Yeah, I'll bet," Emmett smirked and waggled his eyebrows. "Not much dialogue to memorize, huh, hot stuff?"

"Shut up, Emmett," he replied automatically as he reclined the seat and pulled a worn baseball hat low over his brow.

"You are one lucky shit. You get paid to grope Isabella Swan's tits! That girl is pert."

Edward sat up and punched Emmett hard in the arm, but the larger man just laughed.

"Less time in the water and more time with the weights, pretty boy. Or were you trying to tickle me?"

"What the hell? You're eleven years older than she is, you perv," he growled. "Don't you need to make a call?" Taking a deep breath, he slunk down in his seat and fought the urge to throw another punch.

"Damn, Eddie. Slow your roll." Emmett glanced at Edward out of the corner of his eye. "Someone's getting a little worked up. If I didn't know better, I'd think that _someone_ had the hots for his lovely leading lady."

"Hardly," Edward scoffed. He conjured his most convincing voice. "I'll go as far as cute, but she's way too ordinary to be considered more than that. My whole point is that she's not even old enough to buy alcohol, much less be fantasy material for someone approaching middle age."

"Thirty-one not middle-aged!" Emmett retorted. "Eleven years is nothing…what the hell? I don't even know why we're talking about this. Your hawt cousin keeps me more than satisfied." Puckering his lips, he made slurpy kisses in Edward's direction.

When they reached the studio, Emmett pulled up to the main complex where Edward's dressing room was located.

"Do you want me to pick you up or drop off a car?"

"Leave the Vanquish."

"Sure thing. Have a _fun_ time!" he goaded with a wink.

Edward didn't even bother to reply. He was running a little late and still had to get ready. His regimen wasn't as lengthy as his female castmates, but he certainly wouldn't be making actor's call on time today. However, his tardiness might work out to his benefit. The less time he had before the cameras rolled, the fewer possibilities there would be to entertain unproductive thoughts.

When he saw Alice Brandon and her entourage enter Stage 8 just before him, he silently thanked his lucky timing. If his fortune held, most of the preparations would be complete, and they immediately would begin blocking the scene's movements.

Just in front of the door, he paused, ensured his expression was appropriately neutral, and inhaled deeply. It truly was show time for him.

As soon as Edward stepped foot on the stage floor, he felt all eyes turn his way. This sort of attention was routine in his life, but normally, it didn't faze him. Today, however, wasn't a normal day for him. Today, for the first time in his acting career, he was nervous.

Today, he would be performing a sex scene with one beautiful, intriguing, disarming woman named Isabella Swan.


	2. Chapter 2

Edward turned his head slowly as he scanned the large space and took his bearings. Any time he walked into a new setting, he created a mental map of the layout and notable characteristics. It was another way he had learned to maximize control over his environment.

Stage 8 was the location of the Solstice club set, and a number of scenes had already been shot here. Being familiar with the building, Edward now searched for anything out of the ordinary. When his survey found nothing unusual, some of the tension bled out of his bunched muscles. He crossed the floor and claimed his usual spot in a back corner of the stage.

Lowering himself in the chair, he cast a furtive glance to his left. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Isabella looking in his direction. The beat of his heart quickened and the back of his neck prickled, but thankfully, his oft-worn mask of indifference stayed firmly in place. He inserted an earbud attached to his iPod, reached for a previously discarded magazine, and pretended to read it.

Meanwhile, Edward cursed the unwelcome reactions to the sight of his younger costar. He had believed her impact on him would lessen over the course of filming, but it was even worse now than the first time they acted together.

The memory of that event often haunted his waking hours any time his mind wasn't otherwise engaged. He had met Isabella during the final round of auditions for _Desperate Relations_, a story about a young woman duty-bound to offer herself for sex in order to save her family. The director, Alice Brandon, handpicked him for the role of businessman Riley Biers, and on the day of their meeting, he had assumed his character in the final reading for the part of Bree Tanner. Isabella was one of three actresses who had made it onto the short list of candidates.

At the time, Edward hadn't known much about her. He didn't take much notice of his Hollywood peers unless directly working with them. A rising star like Isabella never made a blip on his myopic radar. In fact, she was the least experienced lead with whom he had ever worked.

The first two actresses who read the part were objectively attractive, moderately talented, and wholly unremarkable to Edward. His profession teemed with such people. Unless needing to exploit them in some way, he disregarded them much like he had been ignored for a significant part of his life.

Therefore, his reaction to Isabella caught him completely off-guard. When he had looked up from his audition sides and saw her standing before him with a quiet beauty that somehow brightened the entire room, he was struck nearly senseless. It was as if he were a visitor in his own body when Isabella began to unbutton the thin back coat that hugged her delicate curves. Her deep brown eyes held his vacant gaze and managed to convey innocence, determination, and seductiveness all at once.

With one look, she captivated him in a way no other had.

It wasn't until she slid out of her top in a lithe movement that his cognizance returned – and with it his defense mechanisms. They slammed into place like vault doors locking, and his emotional core was safely caged once again. Now Riley, the apathetic entrepreneur, could emerge and take control.

By the time she stood in front of him in only a bra and panties, he regarded her in the same manner as he would appraise a pleasing piece of art considered for purchase. After examining her attributes and finding them acceptable, he proceeded as he did with any business deal he intended to close: he took fast, decisive action and then claimed what she offered...what was rightfully his.

But when his hands had closed around her upper arms – when his fingers touched her soft, smooth skin, he was overwhelmed for the second time. As if of its own volition, his mouth made a line toward her jaw. He was able to redirect at the last moment and stopped just short of her ear.

"We may be able to work something out," he said through clenched teeth. His statement was deliberately ambiguous. Control, authority, the upper hand – they must always reside with him.

Strands of her fragrant hair brushed against his nose, and he fought the urge to bury his face in her neck. His grip tightened on her arms for a split second before a reserve of willpower allowed him to release and step back. Pivoting on a heel, he escaped the room as quickly as possible without breaking into a run. A key to survival was knowing when to retreat, and if anything, Edward was a survivor.

As such, he didn't doubt his ability to endure today's trial, but the personal cost was likely to be high. It would take every bit of his internal discipline to resist her unintentional enchantments.

He peeked at Isabella through his lashes and saw her take several deep breaths. The smooth, pale expanse of her forehead wrinkled as she frowned, and then her eyes seemed to glaze over. He longed to know what thoughts caused each breathy sigh and every twitch of her perfect, pink lips, which were now turning up into a wistful smile.

The busy droning of stage noises ceased as Alice barked out her morning greeting and standard pre-filming spiel. Edward didn't pay much attention. He knew the routine and was a veteran of numerous love scenes. A dark chuckle escaped him whenever he thought of his success in portraying the sensual, experienced lover. If only they knew…

"…Cullen! Get over here!"

Showtime.

He took his mark on set behind the desk. Edward didn't need to spend any time getting into character. His Riley persona hung above him like a light bulb with a dangling chain. All he had to do was give the beaded cable a tug, and he would assume the role. That was the easy part.

The difficult task today would be staying in character as Riley – especially when those perfect, pink lips came so close to…_him._

In his periphery, Isabella climbed onto the set, but he studiously ignored her until Alice spoke to them.

"You two are ready to go with this scene, right? You talked?"

Edward flashed his eyes to Isabella and lifted his shoulders in a dismissive manner. He mustn't show any sign of weakness or vulnerability.

"I've been trying…"

Yes, she _had_ attempted to speak with him. Twice. And each time, he accomplished his goal of turning her away. It was unfortunate that he had to be rude in the process – he usually caught more flies with honey - but it was the only way to ensure she kept her distance. He had a difficult enough time working with her on set in a professional manner.

Alice's unhappiness at their lack of communication was nearly tangible

"We'll make this quick," she growled. "Cullen, do you have any limitations concerning this scene? Any 'Do Not Cross' lines?"

_All of them._

Without blinking, he directed his reply to Isabella. "No. None at all."

Edward's façade nearly cracked at the scorching determination that swelled in her eyes. It twisted and danced like a living thing.

"Same here."

Impatient as ever, Alice rushed through her final instructions though Edward didn't absorb a word of it. He stared unabashed at Isabella's expressive face as she seemed to withdraw inside herself. The transformation from the actress Isabella Swan to Bree Tanner, the desperate daughter of an alcoholic and gambling addict, was a visible thing, and it fascinated him.

His gaze followed her long legs as they crossed the set and stepped through the office door. Just before she pulled it closed, one hand ran down her side and smoothed a short leather skirt over her enticingly curved hip. The sight of that gesture registered in his brain and then went straight to his groin.

Edward swallowed a groan. The scene hadn't started, and already he was in trouble.

* * *

><p><strong>Love to get some feedback on these EPOVs! Should I keep writing them?<strong>

**Thanks!**


	3. Chapter 3

**_From Chapter 2..._**

_His gaze followed her long legs as they crossed the set and stepped through the office door. Just before she pulled it closed, one hand ran down her side and smoothed a short leather skirt over her enticingly curved hip. The sight of that gesture registered in his brain and then went straight to his groin._

_Edward swallowed a groan. The scene hadn't started, and already he was in trouble._

**Chapter 3**

* * *

><p>He almost missed the cue went it sounded: timid taps on the door made by a delicately graceful hand. It was all he could do to croak out his line.<p>

"Enter."

Isabella took her mark inside the office and closed the door behind her. Though the set featured only half of a room, Edward wished the click of the lock signified their privacy in the real world in the same way it did for Bree and Riley. If so, then it would only take one word from her deliciously full lips, one nod of acquiescence, and he would be out of his seat. He would cross the room with long, purposeful steps, push her against the wall, hitch up her skirt around her waist, yank down her panties, and…

"So you'll accept?"

_Shit_.

Once again, the impossible had occurred. He'd gotten distracted while doing a scene. Before Isabella, that _never_ happened. Now it was a common event.

He had to take command of the situation, of himself. After all, the difficult part was still to come. Edward leaned back against the supple leather and regarded her with detached intent, as Riley would do.

"Come closer."

Her steps were so cautious, her body language so timid. With downcast eyes and trembling hands, she was evoking feelings of protectiveness within in him. He wanted to pull her close and never let go.

_Dammit, Cullen, knock it off and get in character. You're supposed to be an ass to her._

"Look at me."

He hated that part of the scene because—with those wide, frightened doe-eyes on him—it was so difficult to utter the next line and all that it implied.

"Convince me why I should consider your offer when I can have the same thing for free."

There was a visible shift her posture as she prepared to sell herself, almost as if shimmying into the full-body costume of some other person. Her hands skipped across her torso in a awkwardly seductive manner, and Edward loathed himself for wanting her even as he leaned forward on his desk to get a better look. That he was acting as Riley did not lessen his guilt.

"Mr. Biers," she purred. "I'll be available to you at all hours without any effort on your part. With me, you won't have to worry about ulterior motives or deception. I'll be what you want, when you want, how you want."

Her eyes locked with his as she loosened the tie of her satin wraparound top, slipped it from her shoulders, and let it ripple down to the floor. As a testament to the hypnotic pull of her gaze, several long moments passed before he surveyed the landscape she unveiled to him.

Smooth plains, curving hills, dipping valleys—all formed from mouth-watering ivory skin except for those two dusky rose peaks that strained beneath ebony lace. He bit down on the inside of his cheek to keep from groaning aloud. It was far too much temptation for Edward, but Riley was insatiable.

"If you want to work off your father's considerable debt, I'll need more than that."

She continued to walk to him, stopping only when she could put a hand to his knee and guide his legs apart. The fiery touch of her fingers was nearly unbearable, and in order to maintain an impassive expression, Edward had to call upon hidden reserves of willpower that had lain undisturbed for years.

He forced himself to remain still and unaffected as her hands slid up his thighs. He did not move while fumbling fingers worked the buckle on his belt. His stare never wavered from her face when she pulled down his zipper and freed the object of her pursuit from its confines.

"I _am_ more." The tip of a pink tongue peeked out and swept over her lips. "I'm more than you've ever had or ever will."

Edward sucked in a shallow breath as her head descended toward his lap and hovered over the silicone phallus protruding from his opened trousers. His own semi-erect penis was twitching within snug boxer briefs.

He held onto his resistance but only barely. He couldn't...wouldn't...let his body betray him like it did _that night_. It didn't matter that the scripted scene was a vastly different circumstance from the one in his past or that his heart was conflicted over his feelings toward the young actress. Only one thing was important, and that was being in control.

That was everything, and he wouldn't let it go.

To test his determination, he extended a hand to her cheek and took a lock of her hair between his thumb and index finger. It flowed like water through his fingers as he followed its length down her body, skimming a knuckle over her smooth skin as he did so. He was intrigued by the way her nipples pushed against the thin material of her bra as he caressed the upper slope of her breast.

Sudden nips of pain brought his attention to where her fingernails dug into his thigh through the fabric of his trousers. Her grip was surprisingly solid, and the appealing juxtaposition of physical strength as she performed an act to demonstrate her submission to him—to Riley—did just as much to test his restraint as her beauty.

But he wasn't able to prevent the involuntary tensing of his body as a frisson of desire shocked his spine. She noticed and responded by increasing her pace over his crotch. His breath quickened at the sight, and he closed his eyes while splaying his hand over the entirety of her breast. He cupped her gently at first, but when she wrapped her fingers around the now-glistening phallus, he knew he would need some sort of release. Either his grip on her or the skin of his dick would need to tighten, and he wouldn't allow the latter to happen. He gathered her mounded flesh in his palm and squeezed. Hard.

At the immediate shifting of her body against his legs, his eyes snapped open in horror. Had he hurt her? He would never forgive himself.

He was about to break scene to ask when his mind registered a low, humming sound. It was Isabella, moaning in pleasure as she pushed her chest into his hand and rubbed her thighs together.

Oh god, either she _liked_ it or was the most convincing actor he had ever met. Both prospects deepened his attraction to her.

He was, at that moment, standing on a very dangerous precipice, and no one else in the room had any idea that a fierce battle raged inside him. It would be so easy to let himself fall into her alluring trap, to break the final bar of the cage that contained his desire. He could even justify the lapse in willpower, redefining it as an acting technique to deliver the most realistic performance possible.

But then he would feel like _she_ had won again.

In a split-second, a slide show of memories flashed in his mind, and it spurred his will to victory. Edward was in full control of his body once more. Obedient now, his arousal retreated as commanded, and he could act instead of reacting. To the camera, there would be no difference, but the distinction for him was everything.

Just like he took charge of his emotions, he assumed direction of her rhythm, using fingers woven through silken tresses at the back of her head. His hips swung forward roughly toward her ready mouth as if reasserting his dominance over her feminine wiles.

"Ms. Tanner…Bree…" His words were forced through gritted teeth. "I need...more…"

Like a good girl, she gave what he demanded, dedicating all of her efforts to his imaginary pleasure. Edward responded as appropriate, groaning and hissing as they worked the scene to its inevitable conclusion.

Edward's resolve lorded confidently over his cowering arousal—except for one moment of revolt when Isabella's hand slipped off the slick silicone and brushed lightly over the indiscreet bulge lying tame beside its synthetic double. Desire coursed through his body and threatened to ignite his passion. Edward knew he had pushed the limits of his restraint. This torture session needed to end. Immediately.

With a grunt of exertion, he simultaneously pulled her head down onto him while his teeth took another hold of his inner cheek's torn flesh. The stinging pain and tang of blood was just enough to keep his erection at bay as he thrust toward her swollen, open lips. Sweat dotted his brow and his breath was labored from the effort of creating a necessary mental separation when physical distance was impossible.

After a sustained growl, low in his throat, the trial was finally over.

The scene, however, was not, and Edward allowed himself only a few seconds to gather his wits before continuing. But he made the mistake of not having fully recovered before raising his gaze to meet Isabella's. He paid for it.

She stared at him with eyes that were Bree's—multi-hued brown swimming with sadness, anger, desperation, and shame…so much shame. Edward wanted to fall on his knees in front of her and beg for forgiveness. He wanted to take all the blame and relieve her guilt. But he couldn't.

They were together only for business, and he needed to maintain the impenetrable wall between them.

"Get on your feet."

His heart appropriately hardened, he watched silently as she redressed and took her place in front of her father's desk. His expression remained stoic as her eyes glistened with tears when she looked over the family photos on the desk's wooden surface. In accordance with the script, he graced her with his well-practiced mocking smirk.

"Nice demonstration. I'll admit, I'm impressed by your…_dedication_ to your father despite the fact that his stupidity and lack of control are the reasons for your family's troubles. Send him back in, and I'll discuss the terms of your employment."

Her shudder was so immediate and convincing that Edward wondered if it had actually been involuntary. The longer he spent around Isabella, the more things he found to admire about her, such as her innately artful acting skills. For his sanity, and her best interests, he would have to figure out a way to free himself from her enchanting spell as soon as possible.

At least he had survived the scene take with his piddling remnant of self-esteem intact. He stared after her retreating form as she walked toward the office door. Given his futile longing for her, he supposed it was no mean feat. After all, she unknowingly had more power to destroy him than any other person, perhaps save one, yet this erotic experience left him relatively unscathed.

For one self-indulgent moment, he allowed himself the forbidden fantasy: he was a whole, undamaged man who wasn't terrified of intimacy. He could approach Isabella like an ordinary person feeling an attraction, ask for her company on a date. They would grow closer over time. He would be able to open the deepest recesses of his soul to her, and she wouldn't find his secrets, his memories—find _him—_repulsive.

The tiniest spark glowed inside him, like a firefly in the darkness. It was warm and light and curiously pleasant, but there was a hidden menace within its brightness—a sharp, cutting edge.

He realized it was hope, and he was afraid.

* * *

><p><strong>Hiya! With some new reviews to OSC, I began rereading the story in order to respond appropriately. That inspired me to write another EPOV! :) <strong>


End file.
